Dead Pyrrha Sketch
by Cardshark92
Summary: An interpretation of the classic Monty Python sketch, with some minor embellishments. Jaune has a difficult time getting a return for his recently purchased Pyrrha.


The store was hopelessly quiet as the man walked in. "Excuse me, sir," he asked purposefully.

"Sir?" The owner rose from behind the counter. She had long, raven hair, the kind of curves that demanded attention, and a smile that told you exactly the price you would pay for giving that attention.

"Sorry, I just ate some taffy and my lips stuck together. I need to register a complaint concerning my purchase," he explained, awkwardly adjusting the sack over his shoulder.

"Welcome to Remnant's Waiferia!" she spread her arms as she gestured at the store. "If you're in need of a good waifu or husbando, we've got something for everyone!" She winked as she brought her hands back down. "So, what are _you_ into?" Not only was she easy on the eyes, she had one of those smoky, husky voices where saying the wrong word can constitute a sexual harassment lawsuit.

"That's just it. I already got a waifu from here, barely an hour ago, but there's a pretty big problem with her," he explained as he dragged his purchase out of the sack.

"Ooh, nice, the Mistralian Red! I've heard lots of good things about those. Lovely hair. So what's the problem?"

"She's dead, that's the problem."

"What?" the cashier squinted. "That's impossible. Maybe you just didn't turn it on right."

"Oh? Let's just test that theory," he held the Pyrrha up by its shoulders and shouted, "PYRRHA! HELLO, PYRRHA! You're needed on the set!" The cashier reached over and raised one of the waifu's arms.

"There you go, it just moved!" she smiled, pleased with her work.

"It moved? That was you grabbing her!"

"What? That's absurd. What motive could I possibly have for doing that?"

Unconvinced by her efforts, the buyer started shaking it vigorously as he continued "It's time for your big scene! I love you, Pyrrha! I want your babies! I want to bend you over this counter and—" Finally, the dead Pyrrha slipped out of his grasp and crumpled to the floor.

"If there has ever been a Pyrrha more dead on this planet, I haven't seen it," he said with finality.

"She's not dead, she's just… stunned!" the cashier reassured him. "You just said you loved her, and that news just stunned her. Mistrali Reds are easily stunned by declarations of love. They're quick to recognize lewdness, too, since I noticed you slip that in there."

"One would think if she was stunned, she would have slightly more of a reaction besides slumping to the floor like a Pyrrha-shaped sack of overcooked fettuccini. How do you explain that?"

"She's resting, you see. Flopping in a pile is how Mistrali Reds prefer to sleep. They're limber like that," the shopkeep purred before she continued speaking. " _Very_ limber, if you know what I mean."

"She's sleeping. In the middle of the day. In a well-lit, noisy store such as this one, with you and I talking over her?"

"Either that, or she's pining for the fjords. It's hard to tell the difference at times."

"PINING FOR THE FJORDS? What in the fine and fabulous flying _*BLEEP*_ is that supposed to mean?"

"That's what the Wikipedia article on Mistrali Reds said. The only reference link was for a $70 academic paper in French, so I still have no idea what those words mean."

"I'm not yet finished. When I purchased this Pyrrha, she hadn't made a single noise or movement, which you told me was due to her being extremely tired from preparing for an underground fighting tournament."

"You would _not_ believe what these girls can get up to when there's nobody at the store to keep them in line. I once left for a week of vacation and came back to find the contents of my store had escaped their cages and organized a three-star restaurant, a law firm, and two gaming podcasts."

"Riiiiiiiiiight. Anyways, I took her home and did some more thorough examination, and I found that the only reason this Pyrrha had been standing up in her box at all was that somebody had shot her through the cleavage with an arrow, protruding enough to stab through the cardboard at the same time."

"And you suspect me of doing that?"

"The arrow was identical in style to that black glass bow you have hanging up on the wall. The one with the label that says 'Property of Cinder Fall. Touch this and I will burn you'."

"Okay, fine," Cinder sighed. "We were out of nails, and I had to do something to hold the Pyrrha down. If I hadn't secured her, she would have just sliced through that box and taken off like a shot! I mean, ZOOM!" she made bird motions with her hands to help visualize the ZOOMing.

"The only way this girl would ZOOM right now," he made the same bird motions, though with much more sarcasm, "would be via a direct act of divine intervention. That, or a necromancer. Because she has, without question, expired."

"I still say she's pining," Cinder blew a strand of hair out of her face with a huff.

"Pining? She has passed on! Ceased to be! Her tale has come to a close! If you hadn't shot her in the chest, she would be pushing up daisies! She's making her excuses to Saint Peter now! A stiff! The only way to contact her now would be through a séance! She's shuffled off this mortal coil! She's dead, and it's all over but the crying! An Ex-Pyrrha, if you will."

"Oh," Cinder looked at the body again. "In that case, it's only fitting we get you a replacement. A shame that we're all out of Pyrrhas. I've got a great Neon Katt, if you're interested."

"Does she have long red hair, a shiny spear, and an ass that simply won't quit?"

"She's got orange hair, a cat tail, and some roller skates."

" ** _THEN SHE'S NOT REALLY MUCH OF A REPLACEMENT, NOW, IS SHE?!_** " the customer shouted.

"Okay, I can back order one, but it might take some time. Until then, all we can do is decide what to do with this dead Pyrrha here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, ignoring any of the fancy cultural options, the three most common plans are burning her, burying her, and dumping her."

"Dumping her?"

"Yeah, just dump her corpse in Forever Fall Forest. Lots of space there, nobody would ever find her. But wait, you like her, don't you?"

"Y-Yes, I do,"

"So dumping is probably out," Cinder bit her lip as she thought. "So either burning or burying, then."

"Which do you recommend?"

"Well, burying isn't exactly a pleasant method, in my experience. You put her in a big wooden box, dig a hole in the ground, drop the box in the hole, cover it up, and the worms and beetles take care of her over the course of a few months."

"And the burning?"

"Well, I call in a favor to a friend of mine, and he lets use his special machine. We stick her into the machine, turn a crank, and *FWOOSH*" Cinder took special care in making a good *FWOOSH* noise, "until there's nothing but ashes. Much faster than the burying, and afterwards, you can get a lovely vase full of what is presumably her ashes, even though there's no real way to know for sure. But word to the wise: make extra sure she's really dead before you burn her. Before burying her too, I suppose."

"I would hope we've clarified by now that she is, in fact, dead," the blond man rolled his eyes and dragged the bag of Pyrrha onto the counter.

"Well, she certainly looks dead, but I just had an idea!" Cinder snapped her fingers. "Let me go check something in one of my cookbooks."

"Wait, what? Are you suggesting we… eat Pyrrha?"

"Well, not raw, obviously," Cinder returned, now dressed in a chef's whites and a hat. "Got to cook her properly, unless you want to get sick. But Mistrali Reds are basically Greek, right? Just get some olive oil, bit of feta cheese, some tzatziki and pita bread on the side...Delicious!" she smacked her lips in anticipation.

"What in the actual…" his voice trailed off into a long pause. "Well, carrying a body around all morning does work up an appetite. Wait, what am I _saying_?"

"It's settled, then. We'll eat Pyrrha. And if you still feel guilty after we're done, I'll dig a hole and you can vomit into it. Save the worms and beetles some effort."

"Fair enough," the man sighed.

"THERE YOU ARE!" a voice shouted as she entered the shop, a large bag over her shoulder. Short black hair with red highlights, silver eyes, and her red cape made for a unique impression.

"Ruby, what are you doing here?" he asked in confusion.

"Hi Jaune!" Ruby waved. "I'm trying to complain about this lousy Penny robot I bought here. The thing literally fell apart in the middle of its third fight!"

"Did you use it near any magnets?" Cinder raised her eyebrow. "I did warn you that using her near strong magnets can cause problems."

"She literally fell to pieces on me!" Ruby pointed at Cinder. Before the shopkeeper could try to explain herself, the door opened and another short woman walked in, much shorter than Ruby. She had pink, white, and brown hair, and was holding a bowler hat and a cane in her hands. She said nothing, but the anger on her face was obvious.

"Hey Jaune, how 'bout we go back to my place? You can polish my bow," Cinder winked at Jaune as she grabbed the sack of Pyrrha and headed for the door.

"I probably shouldn't," Jaune declined. "I mean, this whole mess is getting rather silly."

"My sentiments exactly," General Ironwood agreed as he walked in. "Much too silly! Everybody out!" He began to usher everyone out of the store, leaving Ruby alone.

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for this acting thing," She admitted. "You know what I _really_ wanted to be?" With a flourish, she ripped off her dress, revealing a plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and some sturdy work boots.

" _A LUMBERJACK!_ Floating down the mighty rivers of British Colombia! Wherever that is…"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Yep, there you have it. I am a horrible person, just in case there was any doubt. While I've never made any excessive claims as to my skill and quality of writing, I make even less claims now, since I'm trying to fill the comedy shoes of Monty freaking Python.

If you care about how this idea came to be, I was wandering a few Facebook groups and eventually got annoyed at some of the denialism surrounding Pyrrha's death. I mean, some of it was understandable. She was a nice person, fun to watch fight, pretty attractive (though a careful observer will notice there are no ugly women in RWBY, at all), and she had basically just confessed her feelings to Jaune! I was sad too, but I was at least able to move on. So this whole story was a delicate mixture of spite and gallows humor, and I do feel a shred of remorse. I swear, I'll make it up to you once I write that Princess Bride fic.

Also, the cover picture was made by **Delumbra** , who you should totally go check out. I don't have any art of Ruby as a lumberjack, though, but I would totally appreciate it.

The next chapter of "The Clean Sweep" is making progress, and should be ready in two weeks' time. Until then, follow/favorite, review, and tell all your friends.


End file.
